


Questions

by redtrouble



Series: Demonheart: Through the Eyes of Sir Brash [12]
Category: Demonheart (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtrouble/pseuds/redtrouble
Summary: Sir Brash and Bright ask each other some questions. [Honestly, I'm just makin' shit up now. I can't seem to leave these two alone!] Rated M for mature language and sexual themes.





	Questions

Bugs tittered in the distance as Brash came out of the cold lake and stood in the sun. He ran his hand through his wet hair, swiped a towel over his chest and then pulled his pants on. He sat down under the nearest tree, tilted his head back against the trunk, and stared at out the lake. Sunlight glittered across its green surface, shimmering in the ripples clustered around Bright, whose long, tangled hair clung to her skin as she finished washing. She dipped into the water and her red hair fanned out like blood and then she rose out of it like a goddess, and blood became fire in the sun.

Brash swallowed, his hand sliding down to his groin where he cupped his cock and balls. He had had her so many times already, so what was it about this woman that kept him hungry for more? He watched her emerge from the lake, water running in rivulets down her bare skin, between her breasts, across her stomach, and down her thighs. She took up the towel he had barely used and began patting her skin, face tilted toward the sun, eyes closed.

She was so damn beautiful.

“You never told me,” he began, breaking the quiet, “why you were with him.” But even as he asked it, he realized that wasn’t the question anymore. What he really couldn’t figure out was how _he_ had won her over. In such a short time and after everything he had done to her, how had he managed to make her fall in love with him? Especially after someone like her limp dick ex-fiancé… He might have made a case for her wanting a bad man if she wasn’t such a sweet little kitten, good and innocent.

Bright looked at him, caught off-guard by the question. “Who?” she asked as she wrapped the towel around her wet hair ends and squeezed.

“That pussy of a man you were going to marry,” he replied. “Target Practice.”

She chuckled, shook her head, and shrugged. “Uh, well, we grew up together, in the same neighborhood. We weren’t always close but we knew each other.” She shrugged again then began rubbing her hair bundled up in the towel between her hands. “Then one day, we were friends. He was sincere and kind and,” she hesitated, “when he asked me to marry him, I had no reason to say no.”

Brash bit back the bitter taste in his mouth. “Did you love him?”

Bright laughed and he saw how her gaze dropped to his hand idling on his cock and one of her slim eyebrows lifted. “Is that what you’re really thinking about?”

He smirked at her. “Answer the question, kitten, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

She sighed and dropped the towel. “I thought I did, but…” She looked around as if looking for the right words. “It wasn’t really love. It was contentment. I was following a familiar path.” She shrugged one bare shoulder then stared down at her hands and frowned. “When he left me in that prison, I…felt betrayed. But not by a lover.” She looked up at him, still frowning. “By a friend.”

Brash could only nod, relieved. He knew it was irrational to want to possess all of her, even her past—especially after admitting to her that years ago he had nearly killed himself over some whore—but he hated the thought that she wasn’t entirely his, that some small part of her might have belonged to someone else.

“Not like you,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “When you betrayed me, it was different.”

Brash scowled at the memory. “Different how?”

Bright stared at him for a long moment then suddenly moved toward him. She crouched down in front of him and he couldn’t help but be distracted by her open cunt. His thumb casually began moving back and forth across his cock already thickening with arousal. They had only meant to stop at the lake for a bath, to sun-dry for a short while, and then they would be on their way, but now he was wondering if they should stay the night.

“What made you,” Bright seemed to struggle with her thought before saying, “choose me?”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Are you asking me why I like you?”

“No! I—well…maybe? No! No.” She tilted her head to the side and her wet hair tumbled over her shoulder. “I know why you like me. I think.”

He couldn’t stop the smirk that formed on his face. “Is that so?” he asked, unable to stop his eyes from drifting down her naked body to that hot, tight space between her legs. “Tell me why you think I like you.”

“Because I’m not like her?” she said carefully.

“Who?”

“The woman who made you want to die.”

Brash’s gaze snapped up from her cunt to her face and it was like ice water had been dumped onto his head. While he tried to figure out a response, she shrugged at his silence, stood up, and got dressed. Brash ran his hands through his hair already nearly dry and watched her put on each piece, still at a loss for words. When she was finished, she sat down in front of him, nestled between his legs.

“When I look back, it was as though you liked me…almost immediately,” she said. “You don’t strike me the type to bend at the sight of a pretty face. So…why?”

Brash looked from one citrine eye to the other, seriously considering her question. What made him fall for her? It was the same as the answer to the question of why he liked her. “What about you?” he growled. What had made this perfect little kitten give her heart to someone like him?

Bright smiled. “You brought me a muffin.”

Brash went still as stone and spouted the only word that made it past his brain. “What?”

“I was in prison for murder…and you brought me a muffin. It was kindness, and it was real.”

“I didn’t come there to feed—”

“I know,” she answered confidently. “You were there to see the demonheart, the murderer. You didn’t know anything about me except what the rumors told you, and I’m sure they were unkind,” she said as a matter-of-fact. “I could’ve been any type of woman, hideous or crude or wicked—you couldn’t have known! But you still brought me a muffin.”

Brash withered under her intense stare, feeling exposed, feeling unworthy, feeling on the edge of a precipice, about to fall, but he couldn’t look away from her for any reason

She grinned and eyed him playfully. “Not that there weren’t times when I thought I had maybe gotten it wrong…but then you kept proving me right. Like with Flora—letting her go. And when you grabbed me and I told you it hurt, you listened. You loosened your grip. A man who cared less…wouldn’t have cared at all.”

Brash stared at her in awe. Had she noticed this back then? Had she really seen it even back then? Had she seen it when he was barely aware of his own feelings, except that he felt intense guilt and rage and desire—and not just to fuck her, but to preserve her, what she was—and he couldn’t sort through it at all, not to save his own life or even hers.

And somehow, she saw it all.

“I know your bite is worse than your bark,” she continued, flashing a brief but coy smile. “And you acted like a threat, but all you ever did was keep them at bay. You were dangerous, but I felt safe with you. So when Mark betrayed me, I felt alone.” She looked down at her knees between his legs. “When you betrayed me, it was like the ground had suddenly opened up right under my feet…”

With a profound ache in his chest, Brash reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm and lifted her head. “I fell for you,” he rasped, “because you weren’t like _me_. Like _anyone else._ Because you’re a good little kitten even when you have a right to be evil.”

“Oh, Brash.” She leaned into his hand far enough to sway to the left where she rested her cheek on his bent knee and his hand tangled into her wet hair. “You must be so disappointed to know.”

“Know what?”

“How similar we are,” she said with a smile. “Although I would never call you a kitten,” she promised, “I know for a fact that you are a good man.”

Brash knew it wasn’t true. He was a bad man…bad but when it came to her. She could make even someone like him better than they were. Could make him good. Maybe she really was a witch, the only kind worth knowing.

He curled his fingers into her hair to take a fistful and gently drew her closer. She lay across his bare chest, gaze on his mouth as he closed the gap between them. He kissed her and warmth spread throughout his entire body.

“Maybe we should stay awhile,” he murmured against her mouth.

And what surprised him was the way he didn’t reach for the laces of her tunic, but wrapped his arms around her as she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder…and closed his eyes. They slept under the shade of a tree, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, sunlight dancing across them. And in the distance, the bugs tittered tirelessly throughout the afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Quite honestly, I have no idea where in the timeline this conversation might take place, or even if it would. I was just thinking about the answers to these questions and decided I really liked what I thought Bright's answer might be so...I wrote this little piece to explore that.


End file.
